Page 58 of Heart Me Up
Foster reached for my hand and held tight. I glanced over my shoulder at Malcolm in the back seat. He had the top zipper open on Mariposa’s carrier and was petting her. I felt better knowing he also had someone to hang onto.
I was turning to face forward again when Malcolm said, “Craig,” in a low voice. I looked back at him. “You did good today. I, uh, might not have been able to get the gun away from him by myself. So, uh, thanks.”
I smiled. Malcolm put up a crabby, sarcastic front, but I was beginning to see there was a warm, kind man underneath. Foster had to have a reason he was friends with Malcolm after all.
“You heard me tell Foster it was a group effort, and I mean that. All of us helped.”
“I guess,” Malcolm grumped. He was silent for a while, so I turned to face forward again. Then he said, “Uh, hey. When you have a minute can you send me some of your friend’s leash videos?”
Chapter27
Craig
We gotto Foster’s house right after sundown, but it could’ve been midnight, the way I was feeling. Foster ordered takeout and no one spoke much while we ate. We were all processing the events of the day.
After dinner Foster and I helped Malcolm up the stairs, all of us swearing with every step.
Once Malcolm and Mariposa were settled in the guest bedroom, which it turned out to already be half-filled with boxes of Malcolm’s belongings, Foster guided me to the master bedroom at the other end of the landing.
I was sure it was a nice room, but I didn’t have much interest in the décor at the moment. Foster shut the door and drew me close into a gentle but insistent hug. “Fuck, Craig, I thought I was going to lose it when I heard you were in the house.”
“I’m all right, at least physically. It’ll take more than some rando mob or cartel guy to get rid of me. And Malcolm’s too grumpy to die.”
Foster made a sound which could’ve been a laugh, but it sounded closer to a sob.
“Hey.” I leaned back so I could see his face. Hewascrying. I wiped his cheeks with my thumbs. “None of that now. Isn’t this the part where we celebrate being alive by fucking?” I hoped I wasn’t too tired to get it up, because Foster needed some life affirmation in the worst way.
Foster made another choking laugh noise, then sniffled and nodded. “Maybe after a shower.”
I wiggled my eyebrows. “I hope you mean we’re going to shower together.” I added, “Since I don’t know if I can stand upright by myself for very long.”
That earned me a watery smile, and he said, “Of course.”
I led the way to the bathroom, which was easy to spot since the door was open. The shower stall was plenty big enough for two. I wasted no time stripping off my clothes. I couldn’t wait to wash the day away.
When Foster took his shirt off, I couldn’t help but stare. He still had the collar on, and I’d sort of gotten used to seeing it peeking out from the open neck of his button-down. But once his shirt was gone, and the collar was the only thing he was wearing above his waist, well, that was a different visual entirely.
“Oh, my fucking god.” I breathed. “Take off your pants too.”
Foster examined himself in the mirror. “It does look pretty hot.”
“Take. Off. Your. Pants.” I gritted out. I wasn’t having any problems getting it up after all.
Then he was naked. Except for the black leather collar with the sparkly letters spelling out that he was fucking mine.
“You’re putting the collar back on as soon as we get out of the shower, right? I need to celebrate life in your ass while you’re wearing that collar and nothing else.”
Foster’s eyes closed halfway. “Fuck, yeah.” He leaned down so I could remove the collar. I set it carefully on the counter next to the sink.
Foster and I took the world’s fastest shower. By unspoken accord, we just washed each other. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I made absolutely sure his cock, balls and ass were sparkly clean, and Foster did the same for me. But we didn’t kiss, we didn’t linger. The good stuff was going to wait for the bedroom.
Foster and I toweled off and I put the collar back on him. My hands were shaking, I was so impatient. Both of us were fully erect, with precum dripping freely.
I got the collar buckled around Foster’s neck with only minimal faux-accidental brushing of my cock against his. I made sure the letters on the collar were front and center before stepping back to admire the entire picture again. The collar, his hawk tattoo, his chest hair, and his lovely inky treasure trail leading to a thick nest of pubic hair around his erect cock. I could easily picture myself spending many hours with Foster’s dick down my throat and my nose in his thatch of hair.
“I mean it, you know,” he told me, distracting me from my fantasies. It was the first time either of us had spoken since we’d gotten in the shower.
“Mean what?”
